


you've settled for less, and i'm sure you'll settle again

by trustingno1



Category: 30 Rock
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-26
Updated: 2012-10-26
Packaged: 2017-11-17 01:54:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/546357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trustingno1/pseuds/trustingno1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He doesn't shave in her kitchen, and he's never been on <i>To Catch a Predator</i>; he's happy in New York and she knows almost everything worth knowing about him. She could do worse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you've settled for less, and i'm sure you'll settle again

**Author's Note:**

> Cross-posting my older fics. Originally posted 15.09.2009
> 
>  **Pairing/Characters:** Liz/Pete, Liz/Jack friendship/UST, Jenna  
>  **Rating:** R  
>  **Spoilers:** through 3x04  
>  **Author's Notes:** inspired by what Liz says she wants in a relationship in 3x04. Title from Taking Back Sunday's I'll Let You Live.

Pete spends his first night as a divorced man on her couch.

He flips through the channels and she lets him; they don't talk much, but they don't really need to. She's sorry, and he knows that.

He settles on _Caddyshack_ , even though it's nearly an hour in, and they've both seen it enough times for that not to matter. Although, really. She figures you probably only need to see it once. _Caddyshack_ is old and familiar and she doesn't need to think about it, and she falls asleep on Pete's shoulder.

He carries her to her bed sometime during the night, places her glasses on the bedside table.

*

He comes over - on the weekend, usually - because his new place is small and dark and _quiet_ , and he's never really lived by himself before.

She likes the company. Likes _his_ company. She wears sweats and food-stained tops and pins her greasy bangs back. They order in.

It's easy.

*

They're talking about work, because that's mostly what they talk about these days, facing each other on the couch, her elbow on the back of the seat.

"They just - drive me _crazy_ sometimes," she says, exasperated, the fingers of her other hand curling, and he reaches out, pats her leg in sympathy - leaves it there a beat too long, maybe. She looks at his hand. His face. She's not sure if this is heading - oh, yeah. He's kissing her now, so it is.

He pulls away almost immediately.

"Oh my God, Liz. I am so, so sorry," and he's Pete, so he is.

"No," she waves her hand. "It's - it's fine."

"It is?" he asks, hesitantly.

She stares at him, and there are _so many_ reasons they shouldn't do this (starting with #1 - It's _Pete_ ), but she nods, or something, she guesses, because he leans back in and kisses her again, hand at the back of her neck, and she stops thinking.

*

When he unzips her _TGS_ hoody, she stops him. "Do you have any-"

He looks sheepish. "Uh, there might be some still in your - bedside table."

"Oh, _gross_ , Pete," she complains, and he shrugs, vaguely apologetic.

So he carries her into her bedroom, and she wraps her arms around his neck, and the silence is almost getting awkward when he mumbles, "My shirts have been hiding a body of _steel_ ," which makes them both laugh.

And then they sleep together.

*

Jenna and Pete are in the chairs near Cerie's desk when she gets to work on Monday morning.

"You look different," Jenna says, closing the magazine in her lap, as Liz passes her.

"What? No I don't," she says, automatically, touching her hair. "Shut up."

"You do," Jenna turns to Pete, "She does."

Pete shrugs and nods and tries to be normal-Pete. Friend-Pete.

*

Pete loiters in her doorway. "Hey, Liz," he says, cautiously, and she waves him in, like this is a perfectly normal Monday. Like he didn't - like _they_ didn't - she's still having trouble processing this.

He stands in the middle of her office, hands resting on the back of the chair facing her.

"Do I normally close the door?" he asks, suddenly - quietly - and she's as confused as he looks, glancing between the open door and Pete.

"I don't - I don't _know_ ," she realises. She knows that Jack does. She knows that, depending on how indignant she is, Jenna sometimes does.

"Me neither," Pete says, slowly, and it's weird to have to _think_ about being with Pete.

*

They're watching rehearsal, which is - good. Normal.

She clicks the pen in her hand before whispering, "Do you think we'll get two 'pussies' past the censors?"

Pete crosses his arms, and they're not looking at each other, and maybe it's not _quite_ normal. "That's what I was wondering."

*

He doesn't shave in her kitchen, and he's never been on _To Catch a Predator_ ; he's happy in New York and she knows almost everything worth knowing about him.

She could do worse.

*

He comes over on Saturday night again, a little later than she's sort-of-expecting, and when she opens the door, his hands are in his pockets, his shoulders hunched a little.

"Hey," he says, warily.

"Hey."

"Can I ... come in?" and it's awkward in a way it's never been between them.

"Of course! Come in, come in," she's too _bright_ , trying too _hard_ , but he does. "Do you want a drink?" she asks, as he closes the door behind him.

"Liz," he says, and she doesn't know what to do with her _hands_. "Liz, I'm sorry about-"

"No - don't be _sorry_ ," and it comes out frustrated and tired.

He cocks his head to the side, and maybe she's imagining the hopeful look in his eyes.

"I've - I've done some," she grimaces, "dumb ... things," and he sort of half-nods in agreement, because he's still Pete, and he can still make fun of her love life, and they're both thinking about AA meetings and Other Liz. "This - isn't the stupidest thing I've ever done."

"Wow, Liz. Try to control yourself," and he's being dry and Pete-like and she smiles slightly, slowly. Tentatively, he smiles back. And then he reaches for her.

*

"Oh my God," Jenna breathes, falling into step beside her Monday morning, "You're having _sex_."

"I wish," Liz snorts, adjusting her glasses, and Jenna stops, in the middle of the hallway.

"You _are_ ," she says, stunned.

*

"Is it that guy on 8th who was checking you out in the elevator?" Jenna tries, over lunch, and Liz looks up from her lo mein, a blob of sauce just under her lip.

"A guy was checking me out?" she asks, "When? Why didn't you tell me?"

*

There are some - false starts. His hands will be creeping up her top or toying with the drawstring on her pants when it'll hit her that those are _Pete's_ hands. And that's still kind of weird.

*

"Lemon, is this some sort of - midlife crisis?" Jack asks, looking up from his desk and she feigns ignorance.

"What?"

"You and Hornberger," he says, and she glances over her shoulder.

"How did you-"

"It's obvious, Lemon," he says, dismissively, and maybe it is.

*

She's hurrying towards Tracy's dressing room when Pete grabs her by the arm.

"False alarm," he says, breathlessly. "Cerie meant he made her pet his _actual_ snake."

It takes her a second. "Oh! Oh, thank God," and he grins back at her.

"I know."

She pauses then. "That's ... still bad, right?" she checks, and he half-shrugs, his fingers warm on the inside of her wrist.

*

He picks up ice-cream, sometimes, on his way over. Like tonight. She sits sideways on the couch, feet nudging his thigh, and eats it straight from the carton. Like she would if he wasn't here. His hand keeps a loose grip on her ankle, and her toes curl when he brushes his thumb down the outside of her foot.

"Tickles," she mumbles, around her spoon, and he doesn't look away from the screen, but he's smiling.

*

"Pete and his wife are definitely divorced, right?" Jenna asks, running a brush through her hair, and Liz continues to flip through the script.

"I think so," she replies, distractedly. "I forgot to tell you - we cut the Jessica Simpson skit."

Jenna spins around in her chair and leans forward to say, confidentially, " _I_ think he's seeing someone."

"Pete?" Liz asks, doubtfully, " _Really_?"

Jenna nods, eyes wide. "It makes sense."

Liz shrugs, keeps her expression blank even as her stomach twists with nervousness. "If you say so."

*

She knows he hasn't told Paula, but she's OK with that. More than OK, actually. Telling Paula makes it something it's - not.

*

She warily agrees when he suggests it, and he loops one of her own scarves - the black and blue striped one she likes - around her wrist (only the one, and only loosely, and yeah, OK, maybe she can see the appeal in this).

*

He sometimes rides the subway home with her, when they stay late, and she _knows_ it's because _he_ knows she has an irrational fear of teenagers in hoods, but he says it's because her place is closer.

*

"So - how is it?" Jack asks, as the elevator doors close.

"How's - what?" she replies, distractedly, pushing the sixth floor button.

"Your," he gestures with one hand, "with Hornberger."

She recoils. "You want to know how the _sex_ -"

" _What_? Good _God_ , Lemon, _no_ -" and at any other time, she'd laugh at his expression.

"Then what?"

He raises his eyebrows, like it's obvious. He probably thinks it is. "Skipping ahead. Starting a relationship - what was it? 'Twelve years in'?"

"You remember that," she doesn't really ask.

"I mean, I assume that's the," and he struggles to say it, " _attraction_."

"I don't know," she replies, honestly, "I mean - I haven't really thought about it."

*

Their sex drives are a little - mismatched. They're working on it.

There are some things she's still too shy to ask for, but they're both happy for him to - to learn by doing.

*

"You made _coffee_ ," Pete says, admiringly, and she leans against her kitchen counter, both hands gripping her mug, and waits for the caffeine to kick in. He reaches past her for his mug, turns his head to the side and kisses the corner of her mouth and this - this is new.

*

"Where do you see it going, Lemon?" Jack asks, as they watch rehearsal from the stands.

She makes a note on her script, knees bent, feet resting on the seat in front of her.

"House in the suburbs? Stepmom to those - kids," and she glances at him briefly, in horror, before shrugging.

"I'm not - over-thinking this, Jack," she says.

"You've given up," he corrects, and her laugh is breathy, humourless.

"That's - yeah. We're not talking about this."

*

They lie in bed and discuss the show. Tracy. Jenna. Not Jack, because that would be _weird_.

*

"Mr. Hornberger? Mr. Donaghy would like to see you _immediately_."

Pete tries to smile. "Thank you, Kenneth," and when Kenneth is out of earshot, he turns, quickly, to Liz and hisses, "What do you think it's about?"

"I don't know," she whispers back. "The ratings are - solid."

"We haven't had any complaints in - nearly two weeks," he adds.

She gives him two mock-excited thumbs up.

*

She closes Pete's office door behind her. "What did Jack want?"

He leans back in his chair, runs a hand over his head. He looks - rough.

"We just - you know."

"No, I don't," she presses.

"He reminded me that he's fired me before," he meets her gaze, "And that he can do it again, if..." he trails off, knows that she'll follow.

"Wow, that's ... inappropriate," she says, almost to herself.

He gazes past her. "He scares me, Liz."

She clicks near his face. "Pete," she says, and he starts.

"Sorry."

*

He's lying on her bed reading a paperback, and after a moment's hesitation at the side of the bed, she crawls towards him. She lifts up his arm, and he turns the book down onto his stomach; she rests her head on his chest, and he plays with her hair.

*

"You look happy," Frank says, when she enters the room, and everyone at the table's looking at her. "It's kind of freaky."

Making her way around to the empty seat, she taps Pete on the head, affectionately, with the rolled-up script in her hand, and only Toofer notices, but he's _Toofer_ , so all he says is, "Are those the rewrites?"

*

On Saturday night, they stay in and watch a movie - they agree on _Star Wars_ ( _Episode V_ , she specifies, and he's fine with that) - and when she rests her head on Pete's shoulder, he murmurs into her hair, "Don't drool on me, Liz."

"I don't drool," she protests, even as she wipes her mouth on his shirt, and he laughs, his hand settling on her leg.

*

He makes waffles on Sunday morning, and they eat them slowly over the paper - and every now and then, her foot nudges his under the table.  
  
  



End file.
